Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  ***

  Inside his helm, the Dark One’s smile broadened as he called forward his elite. These were the Caynians—Followers of the Blade, his protectors.

  ***

  The scouts from Ubert separated. Two of the men rode from the fortress to a nearby hill, dismounted on the far side of the hill, and crept up to a ridge that overlooked the fortress. From their vantage point, the men could see over the high outer walls into the sinister-looking building. To their horror, dark creatures were massing in the open courtyard and they could just make out the hideous shapes of the beasts. In silent shock, the two scouts crept back to their horses and galloped around the gargantuan structure, out of sight of the inhabitants, and back to their comrades.

  They joined the others and described the disturbing scene they had witnessed in the fortress.

  “Are you sure?” asked Captain Verun, staring at the men suspiciously.

  “I’m as sure of what I saw as I’m sitting here. But I cannot believe it,” one replied.

  “What do we do?” another asked, looking visibly shaken. Verun thought for a few minutes as he gazed at the structure before him.

  The scout captain pointed at two of his team. “You two make haste and return to Ubert. Report to Waid straight away and have him prepare,” he ordered.

  “What will I do?” asked the scout not chosen to return to the outpost.

  “We will stay here and watch. If they march towards Ubert, we’ll race ahead to the outpost and give some warning.”

  “Warning! What warning will you give? You didn’t see those creatures. They’re creatures not from this world, of that I’m sure. I’ve seen men in armour and creatures of the night from the great forest. Those creatures are neither man nor beast from anywhere hereabouts.”

  “Listen to me. You two ride to Ubert and report to Waid. Do not create any hysteria. Just report and wait for instructions.” One of the scouts hesitated. “Ride, that’s an order!” barked Verun.

  Within minutes, the two scouts heeled their mounts into a gallop and headed back to Ubert.

  ***

  The first Caynian ambled through the gateway between the realms, taking its first shuddering breath. These were massive man-like creatures, about seven feet tall, born from the evil souls within the Mines of Moranton. They had scarred baldheads or plaited black topknots, yellow eyes and grim lines forming their mouths. Their skin was ash grey tinged with blue, and covered in battle scars. Most wore helms made of black metal, rimmed with dark fur, adorned with spikes, or horns of various shapes and sizes protruding from the front and sides.

  They had huge broad, rounded shoulders and steel plates around their shoulders, bolted through the shoulder bone. Criss-crossed scars covered their barrel chests; thick biceps extended down to massive forearms, encircled with chains and or leather strips, ending in huge callused hands. Brown leggings covered muscular legs, tucked into knee-high boots, with steel plates extending up to protect their knees.

  Around the waist was a thick black belt with large metal buckles, marked with the individual’s rank. The weapons of choice for these creatures were either colossal double-headed axes or ‘bastard’ swords. ‘Bastard’ swords were gigantic broadswords, two hands wide, three fingers thick, and four feet in length, with leather wrapped around double-handed hilts.

  These men were frightening to behold and as powerful as they appeared. They could crush a man in their hands and with one swing of their axes or swords, could cut a chunk out of the oldest gnarled hardwood tree. Each Caynian held onto reins and behind each, walking silently from the darkness, was a huge stallion with glowing yellow eyes. These animals would dwarf even the largest horse in the Kingdom or Empire. The mounts obediently followed their masters into the realm of mortals, with their hooves clicking loudly on the stone floor as steam rose from their massive, powerful black bodies. Mounted on these stallions, the Caynians were the deadliest force ever to fight in this realm. They were the force that had virtually destroyed man during the Dark Wars. On horseback or on foot, the Caynians were murderously lethal.

  ***

  Dax arrived at the fight in time to stop Tanas killing members of the Silverswords clan. The clansmen were scouts, sent out from the Kharnacks’ camp a few hundred strides to the north. In the blinding blizzard, they could have easily marched straight by, not knowing the Silverswords’ camp was there. But they found their way, joined up, and escorted the company to the campsite.

  Dax and the others were marched straight to the tent of Maldino, the clan chieftain. They remained mounted. The Kharnacks, who travelled with them, dismounted and rushed around the camp to find their kin. As the blizzard continued, the Rhaurns stopped outside a huge tent by a central fire. Kavlon and Chahar dismounted, walked up to the tent, and pointed at the Rhaurns. Guards approached the Rhaurns; one of them took their horses’ reins while others drew their weapons ready.

  After a while, a large man in a brown oiled cloak opened the tent flap, stepped outside, and trudged through the snow towards the Rhaurns. Flurries of snow hindered the clansman’s vision as he peered up at Dax. Slowly, a smile graced the man’s scarred, flat face. Throwing his arms back, he greeted his friend.

  “Well met, Violet Storm, you old hound,” said the man in near perfect Rhaurien.

  “Well met, my friend, Maldino. How do you fare?” Dax dismounted his horse and the two men grasped hands, warrior style, at the wrists.

  “I have been better, my friend. However, let us step into my tent and get you out of this weather. Let me show an old friend some Kharnack hospitality. Come, and bring your companions.”

  The four Rhaurns dismounted and followed the clan chieftain into his large canvas tent. Sweet smelling greyish-blue smoke filled the tent, wafting up from the fire in the centre and escaping through a hole in the roof of the fabric room.

  Once inside, the Rhaurns marvelled at the array of weapons on display. Dax could not help noticing that this man, a warrior chieftain, was preparing for war. It was the Kharnack custom to have their weapons on display when getting ready for battle.

  “Preparing for something?” asked Dax.

  Maldino ignored the question and sat down on a thick bearskin rug. A woman handed him a stone goblet. He gazed at the standing men in turn, then gestured with his free hand for his guests to sit on fur rugs around the blazing fire. Each man began to shed layers of clothing, as the warmth in the tent penetrated their chilled limbs. The chieftain’s dark eyes scanned the fabric room, watching the wind buffet the rippling cloth walls while warm drinks were offered to his guests. He had yet to acknowledge his son and his champion. After the serving maids left his tent, Maldino’s expression darkened and he spoke to his son. “What have you to report? You have been gone many days.”

  “F . . . Father . . . I . . . umm. I . . . ”

  “Enough! Did you complete your mission?”

  “W . . . we umm . . . ” stammered Kavlon, obviously unsettled by the presence of the Rhaurns.

  “Just get out, boy!” stormed the chieftain.

  Kavlon shot his father a harsh glare, but silently left the tent with his head bowed.

  Taking a deep calming breath, the chieftain turned to his champion, Chahar. “What happened?”

  Chahar explained, rather embarrassingly in front of the Rhaurns, about the company becoming lost and only just managing to find the Grey Castle, then meeting the Rhaurns and the fight with the Dark Brethren, finishing with Dax and Tanas guiding them to safety through the storm.

  “Thank you, Chahar. Get some food and see your family. We will speak more later.”

  Chahar bowed to his chieftain and silently left the tent. The Chieftain nursed his goblet, momentarily forgetting he had other guests. Maldino looked towards Dax and smiled broadly; the grin crossing his scarred face showed the man’s lost youth.

  “Violet Storm, thank you for saving my son. He may be weak of mind, but with training, I’m sure he will make a good leader. He has not been the same since the d
eath of his mother—too eager to please.”

  Maldino’s wife had died several years earlier from a fever. It had been a harsh, bitter winter in the mountains that year with huge snowdrifts covering the camp. Due to the ferocity of the weather, no healers were able to reach the clan and save her. Maldino had not taken another wife—so much had he loved his wife, and thus, only sired one son.

  “Your son has your blood and can only be a great leader,” said Dax softly.

  “I thank you, my friend, for your kind words, but I do feel the boy needs more training and he needs to lose the impetuousness of youth. Only then might he mature into a leader.” Suddenly, Maldino smiled. “You have not introduced your friends.”

  Dax bowed his head slightly. “I am sorry Maldino, I have been rude. Let me introduce my companions. To my left is Thade.”

  Maldino squinted against the pluming smoke. “Be that the gladiator Thade from Kal-Pharina?”

  “Yes,” answered Thade, bowing.

  “I have heard of you, a fighter of some greatness, who fights with two swords. I did not know you were friends with Violet Storm.”

  “I have known him most of his life,” answered Dax with pride.

  “And a great gladiator yourself. Much coin I have won betting on you, old friend,” said Maldino, smiling wryly. “Well met, gladiator Thade, Twin Swords of the Silverswords Clan.”

  “Well met,” replied Thade, bowing his head. He looked at Dax, who smiled broadly. Maldino had given Thade a Kharnack earth-name. It was Kharnack custom for a male baby to be given an earth-name until they reach manhood. This honour was not bestowed on many Rhaurns; only Dax and a few others had been so named. One of the others was the axe-wielder who stood alone at Ractenack Pass: The Silverswords chieftain named him Fire in the Storm.

  Then Maldino spoke. “The man with the scarf covering his eyes must be the mystical blind warrior.”

  “You’ve heard of Tanas?” asked Dax, puzzled, furrowing his brow.

  “Tanas, is that your name?” enquired Maldino.

  “Yes,” replied the blind warrior.

  “I have heard stories of a blind warrior who ties a scarf over his eyes, travelling from the north across our lands. Sagas have been told of a blind warrior helping a small clan in the northern parts of the Great Mountains. This warrior was a man beyond compare. Is this you?”

  Tanas cocked his head to one side and smiled broadly. “And you are the great leader of the Silverswords, a man I have heard is a warrior of great excellence. Well met Maldino, Cloud Rider.”

  “Well met, Blind Rage,” said Maldino, smiling at hearing his Kharnack earth-name. Then he turned his attention to the old man sitting at the end.

  “Finally, this is Gan-Goran, a master-magiker from Teldor,” said Dax.

  Maldino looked at Gan-Goran for a long moment. “I have heard stories of a mage with healing hands from the Kingdom, coming to our lands. You healed a small clan called the Brokenspear of the fever, as the stories tell.”

  “A small clan? There were over two hundred people infected by the fever,” snapped the old master-magiker irritably.

  “So it was you with the healing hands?”

  “Aye, it was I,” answered Gan-Goran proudly.

  “The Brokenspear clan has joined my clan and for saving them, I am grateful. I owe you a debt. My clan knows you as Glowing Hands. Well met.”

  “Well met,” replied Gan-Goran, dipping his head.

  “Please, my friends, let’s enjoy some refreshments.”

  Following Kharnack custom, the men were handed thick cushions to lounge on for their meal. Shortly afterwards, they enjoyed hot spicy Kharnack food and drinks brought in by buxom clanswomen.

  Suddenly, between mouthfuls, Maldino said, “I hear that the Rhaurns have a child as their king.”

  Dax’s eyes blazed with annoyance. Maldino noticed Dax’s anger and raised his hand, smiling. “Do not misunderstand me, Violet Storm. I understand the king rallied his army to victory. A noble and brave charge he made into the battle. I commend the man on his bravery, but from the reports I have received it was a naive, childish action.”

  “But he defeated your kin,” hissed Dax coldly.

  “That’s without question,” replied Maldino, smiling sardonically.

  Thade changed the subject. “Why so many weapons?”

  “We are going to kill our enemy,” sneered Maldino, momentarily losing his calm composure.

  “And who is your enemy?”

  Maldino placed a chunk of dark brown spiced meat into his mouth and chewed slowly, savouring the flavours. He looked into each man’s eyes, except of course those of Tanas. He could read the thoughts of each man from their eyes. They awaited an answer, but he did not speak straight away. He swallowed . . .

  “Let me make something clear. The Rhaurns fought my people with honour and for that I hold no grudge against them, or the Phadrine. Your people fought with pride and defended something that was yours to defend. Unfortunately, my people fought for something that was base and evil. I mean to destroy the vileness at the Grey Castle and show my people we can be a great force of goodness.”

  “What happened in the Grey Castle?” asked Dax.

  “We were united by a false prophet. He said he would turn the power of the lands in favour of the Kharnacks and give us our nation. We were not to know the man was a charlatan and only cared about the coming of his master. We were taken to the castle and for several weeks trained in its grounds. Then we were told to wait north of the Steppes for the Darklord and his Dark Brethren before marching to the white city.

  “While waiting, I heard news about the atrocities and slaughter of the Evlon people. I had many friends in Evlon and felt ashamed to be a part of a force that would wantonly murder women and children. After discussions with other chieftains, I took my clan away and rode back to the mountains before marching to the city. My fellow clansmen who stayed were tricked into fighting at Kal-Pharina.

  “For this I will kill the Darklord and the three warriors in silver armour who were called Malice, Fury, and Chaos. These three men had mystical powers, of that I am sure. The one named Chaos uses his blades better than any man I have seen. But they will fall to Kharnack steel. It is my destiny. It is my intention to hold together the unity formed by the evil and use it for good. But most of the clans are again warring amongst themselves. I will need to be careful when trying to bring them together.”

  “What do you intend to do once you have united your kin?” asked Dax suspiciously.

  “We will live in peace until the time is right for us to act.” Maldino raised his hand, stopping Dax’s next question. “You can tell your king the Kharnack clansmen do not seek revenge for the battle at Kal-Pharina. We only seek vengeance against those who tricked us into battling in the first place. I pledge that as I sit here, I, Maldino, chieftain of the Silverswords, will not rest until the evil has been removed from our lands. We will attack the Grey Castle and kill all those who remain. We now have a blood feud with those warriors in black and they will feel Kharnack steel rend their skin. When the weather clears, we will march.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “You have done enough by saving my boy. For that, I am again in your debt, and if you ever need Maldino, he will come to your aid. For you, Violet Storm, I will come and help.”

  Dax bowed his head and smiled. “I may take you up on that, my friend.”

  “A man can be judged by his friends and around me I have the best Rhaurien men. But only Fire in the Storm and yourself can ask me to come to your aid, and when you call I will come.”

  Thade looked at Dax questioningly. “Rayth,” confirmed Dax softly.

  “Now you will share a pipe with me.” Maldino called for one of his women and she brought in a peace pipe. It was a simple long-necked pipe filled with special dried leaves. Maldino lit the pipe, drawing in, then exhaling rich, thick blue smoke. Next, Dax puffed on the leaves, enjoying the flavour. Both Thade and Tanas choke
d on the smoke, which had a slightly hypnotic effect. Gan-Goran sat there for some time enjoying the pipe, eventually but reluctantly passing it back to Maldino.

  For the rest of the evening the men swapped stories from the recent and distant past, laughing together well into the early hours, drinking a strong alcoholic Kharnack drink called Brotage. When eventually they had finished, the Rhaurns staggered from Maldino’s tent and were escorted to smaller tents where they collapsed on fur-covered cots to sleep off the effects of the potent liquor.

  CHAPTER 8

  Inside the newly formed fortress on the western edge of the Steppes, the last massive Caynian led his stallion through the portal between the realms. Following the Caynian, three Keepers marched slowly through the portal with their grey shredded robes dragging on the ground. Only cold, glowing blue eyes were visible from the deep shadows filling their hoods. They turned to the Dark One and bowed to their master.

  “Keepers of the mines, you are to stay and find the souls of the wicked, and continue to create my force. We will need the Dread you create. Once the mortals have been defeated and we control the lands—and Her—the gateway will be permanently opened for you to travel through.” The tallest Keeper bowed in response.

  “I have left some Caynians to help control the miners and protect my Black Palace. But we will need more Dread in the days to come, so go and work those miners. Find new souls and make me proud. The portal between the realms will periodically open for you to send fresh beasts through and my Caynians will protect both sides of the gateway. Every time it opens, I expect reinforcements. Once I have defeated Her, there will be enough dark magic here to keep the portal open permanently.”

  The three Keepers bowed to the Dark One, then returned to their realm, Yallaz’oom, vanishing through the portal. The Dark One uttered three words of power and the portal imploded in a blinding flash leaving the hall in eerie, silent darkness. The Darklord gestured with his skeletal, pallid hand and torches throughout the hall ignited, bathing the large room in a warm glow. Only the four once-men remained, waiting for the Dark One to speak.